No Regrets, Just Love
by xBleedingBlackRosex
Summary: Soulmate AU - Kurt is a famous fashion designer and Blaine is an up-and-coming singer/songwriter. They have each other's names on their wrists, but they wear cuffs to hide it, and they've never met. Until Blaine accidentally tweets a picture...
1. Chapter 1

**This was originally posted on tumblr, but I got a lot of requests to put it on here as well. :) It's based off gleeddicted's soulmate AU gifset. Enjoy!**

…

Kurt sighed for the umpteenth time that morning; ever since his publicist had burst into his apartment and shoved the article in his face, he couldn't seem to do anything but. There was no going back now. Everyone knew. Everyone was going to be watching them, eager to see what they did next, document their first meeting. All eyes were on them now.

Before he could over-think it, he yanked off his leather wristband – the one he never stepped outside without – pulled out his iPhone, and snapped a picture of his wrist, where the words 'Blaine Anderson' stood out on his pale skin.

"What do you think you're doing?" his publicist, Jennifer, demanded.

"Giving them what they want."

"No! Stop!" She grabbed his phone away from him before he could post the tweet. "Look, we can fix this. We can say the picture was photoshopped. We can say Blaine's twitter account was hacked and it's not real. We can-"

"What's the _point_, Jenn?" he sighed yet again. "Blaine _is _my soulmate. Everybody knows it now."

"But you made it very clear from the start you didn't want people to know until you and Blaine actually-" She broke off when Kurt's phone began to ring in her hand. She huffed impatiently and answered, "Hello, Kurt Hummel's phone?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow inquisitively when Jennifer's expression went from irritation to shock to unease. She covered the mouthpiece and hissed, "It- It's _Blaine_."

The designer's eyes widened and he lunged out of his chair. "Give me the phone," he said in a rush, tugging it out of her hand and turning away. "Hello?"

"Kurt?" A deep, sweet voice reached Kurt, and it felt so overwhelmingly familiar, even though he'd never actually heard it in person – just interviews he'd seen on TV and the internet. "Hi. It's- This is Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

He couldn't help but chuckle a little; the last name was sort of superfluous, considering everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. "How did you get this number?"

"Sorry," Blaine immediately apologized, and oh, was he nervous? He sounded nervous. "My- I had my manager call your office and they gave him this number. I'm sorry, should I not have called? I just didn't know how else to get in contact with you-"

"No, no, it's- it's fine." Kurt waved Jennifer off when she tried to lean closer and listen in. He slipped into his bedroom and shut the door behind him, letting out a long, calming breath as he sank down on the end of his bed. "So. Cat's out of the bag, I guess."

"I'm _so _sorry," Blaine said again, and he truly did sound it. "I _swear _I didn't mean to. I forgot that I wasn't wearing my wristband, and I didn't notice that your name was visible until after I'd posted the picture, and I took it down the second I realized, but it was too late and I'm _really _sorry and I feel like the worst person in the whole-"

"Blaine!" Kurt cut in. "Breathe. I'm not mad."

Blaine let out a tiny, choked-up little breath when Kurt said his name. "You- You're not?"

"No." And he wasn't; he knew he should be, but hearing Blaine's voice, _talking _to him, was so uncontrollably calming. Like a sedative. He couldn't help but smile a little into the phone. "I'm not. It was an easy mistake – anyone could have made it."

"You wouldn't have," Blaine murmured, and it was clear he was still beating himself up over it. "You wear yours all the time. I should have been more careful. I should have-"

"It's _fine_," Kurt reassured. "Relax. What's done is done. At least…At least it gave us an excuse to talk, if nothing more."

Blaine gave a little laugh, and oh, okay, that was probably Kurt's favorite sound in the world. "I…I'm really glad I got to hear your voice, Kurt. I mean, I've seen you on TV and read articles about you but I never- I always imagined what it would be like to-"

He broke off. Kurt knew what he'd been trying to say, though, and he whispered, "Me, too."

There was a short pause, and it wasn't awkward even though it should have been; it felt comfortable, almost as if they were in the same room together instead of lord knows how many miles apart. "I'm glad you called," Kurt finally murmured.

He could hear the smile in Blaine's voice. "I'm glad I called, too." He cleared his throat and continued, "I- I'd really like to meet you. In person. If- If you'd like. I mean, I'd understand if you didn't want to after what I did-"

"I'd love to," Kurt interrupted, and already he could tell he'd be doing a lot of that – cutting off Blaine's ramblings. It was oddly endearing. "But…Somewhere away from the public eye, if you don't mind. I'd rather not have our first meeting all over the cover pages of magazines tomorrow morning."

"No, yeah, totally!" Blaine agreed hastily. "I- Here, I'll text you an address and we can meet there in, like, an hour?"

Kurt agreed, and just before hanging up, he couldn't help but confess, "I can't wait to meet you, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine exhaled shakily, causing a crackle down the line. "I can't wait to meet you either, Kurt Hummel. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

They hung up, and Kurt quickly saved the number into his contact list under a name he'd been waiting to add for 25 years. He stared at the screen for a moment, and then his phone buzzed with a new text – the address from Blaine, which ended with a 'hope you like coffee! :)'

Kurt snorted and rolled his eyes.

He didn't realize until he was standing up to go tell Jennifer about his plans that he'd been tracing the black letters on his left wrist with a fingertip, which seemed to tingle in anticipation.

…

"Kurt! Kurt, what do you have to say about the recent Twitter leak?"

"Are you and Mr. Anderson in contact?"

"Why are you still wearing your wristband?"

"Kurt Hummel! Look this way!"

"Kurt!"

"Kurt!"

The fashion designer ducked his head and let his security guide him through the crowd of paparazzi to the hired car, subconsciously clutching his leather band close to his chest as if scared they would try and pry it off him. After much debate, he'd decided to put it back on, even though it was no secret anymore. It made him feel safe. Untouchable.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked.

Kurt read off the address to him, and then they were off, maneuvering through the cluttered sea of vehicles that was New York City's streets. It was silent in the car; Kurt was left to his own musings in the backseat as he watched the city go by through tinted windows.

_Blaine Anderson. The award-winning musician. The singer that writes all of his own songs and performs them with such heart and passion. The adorable young man everybody wants a piece of. The humble goofball that's made headlines more times than I can count._

_My soulmate._

Kurt shook his head; even now he could hardly believe it. There had always been a smidgeon of doubt in the back of his mind – _what if my soulmate is some _other_ Blaine Anderson out there?_ – but the second he'd heard Blaine's voice over the phone, he'd known. He was it. He was Kurt's other half. He was the reason Kurt sometimes felt unexplainable bursts of joy, or fear, or nerves, or contentment. He was-

He was right there.

"Blaine!" Kurt called as he stepped out of the car onto the sidewalk.

Blaine, who had just been about to walk inside the tiny café, whipped around, a huge grin spreading across his face the moment he spotted Kurt.

"Hi!" he greeted. "Wow, perfect timing! You look-" His eyes roamed up and down Kurt's form, and the fashion designer was suddenly very aware of his own appearance. He was wearing one of his own designs, and he was very interested in finding out what Blaine thought of it. "You look so much better in person. I didn't even think that was possible."

Kurt giggled, blushing lightly. "Thank you. You're not too bad on the eyes yourself."

Blaine's smile widened even further, and he gestured to the front door. "Shall we?"

"What is this place?" he asked as they stepped inside, Blaine holding the door for him. "I've never been here before."

It was small, dimly-lit, and smelled strongly of coffee and cinnamon. There were only a handful of customers scattered amongst the small round tables, and the ones that bothered to look up at the newest arrivals either didn't recognize them or didn't care. Either way, it was a godsend.

"Lulu's Coffeehouse," Blaine said, leading him to the counter. "I've been coming here for a couple years now. The coffee's great and hardly anyone realizes who I am, so nobody bothers me. It's a nice place to come and relax every once and a while." He glanced up at the menu before turning to him and adding, "What's your coffee order?"

"Um, a tall nonfat mocha, if they have it," Kurt murmured, eyes scanning the chalkboards above their heads.

Blaine smiled at the old man standing at the cash register. "Good morning, Will."

"Mornin' yourself, sonny," he wheezed with a toothless smile. "What can I get you two youngins today?"

"A medium drip and a tall nonfat mocha, please," Blaine ordered. "And a plate of biscotti," he added, glancing to Kurt to make sure that was okay. He nodded. Blaine paid – Kurt offered, but Blaine insisted. "I'm the one that messed up," he justified, "so I'm the one paying."

Kurt rolled his eyes playfully. "Fine, but I get to pay next time."

Blaine beamed even brighter than before. "Deal."

They settled down at a table near the back, and after a beat of simply staring at one another Kurt laughed and said, "So. This is definitely not how I imagined our first meeting would go."

Blaine chuckled. "No, me neither. I always thought it would be at one of your fashion shows, or at some gala we were both invited to. I-" He blushed delicately, and Kurt couldn't help but think it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "You're the reason I've tried so hard, y'know. To be successful. To get my name out there."

Kurt frowned a little, bemused. "Me? What do you mean?"

"I- I've known about you for a few years," Blaine explained. He laughed a little at himself and reached over to grab a few sugar packets. He poured them into his cup as he talked, and Kurt could actually _feel_ his nerves – they made his own heart race. "Ever since you started making a name for yourself at _Vogue_. And then you started your own line, and appearing in all the fashion magazines, and I- I knew you were it. I _knew_ you were my soulmate. Every time I heard your name I got this- this _thrill_. Like the way little kids feel when they remember Christmas is coming soon, y'know? And I kept hoping that maybe you'd hear about me and- I don't know feel the same way? Try to get in contact with me? I don't know, I'm not really sure what-"

"I did," Kurt cut in reassuringly. He reached across the table and gently pried one of Blaine's fiddling hands from around his coffee cup. The second their fingers touched, an overwhelming sense of calm washed over him; Blaine squeezed his hand and smiled gratefully. Kurt already loved it when Blaine smiled at him. It was a smile that said _you're my everything_.

"You did…?"

"Feel that way, I mean. I'd be in the car and one of your songs would come on the radio and I'd just- I'd get this sense of being _close_ to you, even though we obviously weren't actually anywhere near each other. Like I could reach out and you'd be there."

Blaine's smile was blinding, and his honey-hazel eyes seemed overly bright. He brought Kurt's hand up and kissed his knuckles – just the lightest brush of lips, but it still sent a shiver down Kurt's spine.

"We're both idiots," added Kurt, giggling when Blaine's eyes went comically wide.

"We- What?"

"We were both waiting for the other to act first. _You_ were trying to get _my_ attention, and _I_ wasn't even sure you knew who I was."

Blaine snorted. "How could I _not_ know who you are? You're the greatest fashion designer of our generation!"

Kurt laughed and blushed, taking a gulp of his mocha, which by now was cool enough to drink without any worry of scalding. His eyes fell upon his black leather band and a thought struck him, prompting him to pull out his phone and open to the camera.

"What are you doing?" Blaine inquired, taking a quick sip of his own coffee.

"If I don't say anything about it, people will start making up crazy rumors that I'm ashamed to be your soulmate or something," he explained as he undid the clasp of his cuff, rolling his eyes at the mere thought. _How could _anybody_ be ashamed of Blaine?_

Blaine looked so enamored when Kurt took the wristband off that the designer couldn't help but hold out his wrist to him, showing him his own name staining his pale skin. Blaine set his cup aside and traced the letters, so delicately, so reverently. The feather-light touch left Kurt's skin tingling.

"May I…?" Kurt nodded towards Blaine's own cuff, and the musician hurried to comply, offering up his own wrist, and- _oh god_. Kurt inhaled sharply. He hadn't expected the immediate rush of _us, together, united_ that filled him. Seeing his name imprinted upon Blaine's tan wrist…It was a link between them, visible proof that they were meant for one another, that they were a perfect match. A set. A duet of the hearts.

He brushed his thumb over the name, almost as if to just make sure it wouldn't wipe off, and then brought it up to his lips for a gentle kiss. Blaine's fingers twitched, and his breathing hitched.

"Kurt…"

And it was that expression – that lovestruck, affectionate gleam of _wonder_ in his eyes – that Kurt managed to capture as he brought his phone up and snapped a picture.

"You're adorable, you know that?" he giggled as he began to type out a tweet.

Blaine chuckled and shook his head, curls bouncing a little. "Not as adorable as you." He eyed Kurt's iPhone as he took a long gulp of coffee and added, "What are you saying? Should I be worried?"

Kurt laughed. "You can see for yourself. I just posted it."

The singer reluctantly let go of Kurt's hand to pull his phone out of his pocket, quickly opening up Twitter and going to Kurt's profile. His most recent tweet – posted less than a minute ago – already had dozens of retweets and favorites.

_I suppose it's time I started following __** BlaineAnderson**__ then…_

The attached picture was mostly of Blaine, but the bottom showed their hands still interlocked on the table between them, both their wrists exposed to show the permanent black scrawl.

Blaine snorted and quickly retweeted it, adding _I'm honored ;)_ before posting it.

"Everyone's going to go completely crazy now," he warned, pocketing his phone as Kurt had already done.

The designer sighed. "I know. We're not going to get much in the way of privacy…"

Blaine pursed his lips, looking apologetic. "I'm sor-"

"No more apologizing!" Kurt chastised. He took Blaine's hand again and squeezed it firmly, holding his gaze. "I don't regret it. Not one bit. It gave us a reason to meet, didn't it? How can I _possibly_ be upset about that?"

The musician beamed brighter than the sun. He opened his mouth to respond, but just then his phone went off, and with a tiny huff he retrieved it from his pocket. "Sorry, it's my manager," he grimaced, and Kurt nodded in understanding. "Hello?"

Kurt couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but he watched Blaine's face closely to see what kind of news it was. He looked confused at first, and then irritated, and then resigned. "Okay, fine, fine," he finally sighed. "Can I- One second." He covered the mouthpiece and whispered, "Are you free for the rest of the day?"

He quickly went through his schedule. "I _can_ be…Yeah."

Blaine nodded and spoke into the phone again. "Can I bring Kurt?…Yeah, he's here with- Oh, you saw the tweet already?…Yeah, okay. Will do. Thanks, man." He hung up and looked back at Kurt. "Kevin says there's paparazzi on their way. Apparently someone on Twitter recognized this café. We need to go. Do you- Would you like to come back to my place?"

He must have felt Kurt's sudden nerves, because he quickly went on, "I mean- Just to talk. So that we can get to know each other better."

"Oh." Kurt grinned. "I'd love to."

They threw back the last remaining dregs of their coffee before standing, their cuffs now reattached on their non-imprinted wrists, and Blaine held out his hand for Kurt to take. He did so without any hesitation, a warm spark shooting up his arm as their fingers wove together.

"Come on," Blaine murmured playfully as he tugged Kurt – not towards the front door, but further back, to the kitchens. "I know a shortcut."

…

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	2. Chapter 2

They thankfully made it back to Blaine's apartment without any run-ins with fans or the paparazzi (although the cab driver kept eying them in the rear-view mirror). There was a short, middle-aged man in the hallway when they got off the elevator on the eleventh floor, pacing and tapping away furiously at his smart phone.

"Blaine, seriously, next time you decide to go off on your own make sure you at least-" He broke off when his gaze traveled to Kurt and down to their linked hands. "Oh. Yes, hello."

"Kevin, this is my-" Blaine began.

The blond man flapped a hand at Blaine impatiently. "I know who he is, you goon! It's only the biggest news in the media right now!" He sighed and then gave Kurt a polite but tired smile, sticking out a hand to shake. "Kevin Mayer. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hummel."

"Please, call me Kurt," he said, reluctantly dropping Blaine's hand so he could shake Kevin's. Automatically, the distance between them felt like too much; it was only a few inches, but after waiting 25 years, Kurt wanted to spend every second he could as close to Blaine as possible.

Blaine must have felt the same, because he shifted his weight on his feet so that their hips and shoulders brushed.

Kevin dropped Kurt's hand and gestured to the door. "Go in, then. I'm sure you two have plenty to talk about. Meanwhile, I'm going to try and clear up your mess, Anderson." He gave Blaine the stink-eye, but it was clearly playful, not meant to have any real sting to it.

Blaine pretended to cower behind Kurt. "I'm sorry! I'll bake you an apology cake!"

Kevin thought it over. "Chocolate coconut?"

"As if there was any other option."

He grinned, satisfied, and departed with a final wave to Kurt, giving them access to Blaine's door. The musician pulled out his key and unlocked it, letting Kurt enter first.

"Sorry about the mess," he muttered. "I- This morning was sort of- There wasn't a lot of time to-"

"It's fine," Kurt chuckled, resting his hand on Blaine's shoulder. The shorter man instantly leaned into the touch. "You should have seen my step-brother's room. Looked like a tornado just passed through, and there was always the subtle stench of dirty socks…"

"I didn't know you had a step-brother!"

Kurt blinked at him. "I guess we don't actually know much about each other at all," he pointed out quietly. He didn't like the way Blaine's face fell, though, and he quickly went on, "We- We should fix that. Let's just – talk. Is that okay?"

Blaine's face immediately lit up again. "That sounds perfect." He gestured to the kitchenette. "Would you like something to drink? Eat?"

"Just some water will be fine, thanks."

A minute or so later, they were settling down on the couch in the main living area, each with a tall glass of ice water. Blaine hastily gathered up the scattered sheet music and magazines and newspaper clippings into a neat pile on the coffee table, apologizing again for the clutter, which Kurt waved away.

"Where do we even start?" Kurt sighed, smiling and taking Blaine's hand. Blaine curled his legs up onto the couch, his knees resting in Kurt's lap, just trying to be closer. It should have been weird, cuddling up together after only knowing each other for a couple hours, but it wasn't; it felt like the most natural thing in the world. As if they'd known each other their whole lives.

"How about…Oh, I don't know. How about we just say what we already know about one another first?" Blaine suggested. "And then we can go from there…Fill in the blanks…"

Kurt nodded. "Sounds good. You can go first."

Blaine chuckled and consented, his index finger brushing over Kurt's mark as he spoke, and it was oddly intimate, considering Kurt had never let anyone outside his family see it before, much less touch it. "Let's see…I know your name is Kurt Hummel, you grew up somewhere in Ohio, you got a job at _Vogue_ right out of high school and then recently started your own line of menswear, which has been doing _really_ well. I know you like your privacy but you handle your fame with grace, and you're very humble about your work. And I now know your coffee order is a nonfat mocha." He grinned and brought Kurt's hand up to kiss. "And that's pretty much it."

Kurt nodded, blushing a little and smiling from the tingling sensation he got when Blaine's lips touched his skin. "I- Yes. That's all correct."

"You're turn," he sang.

Kurt took a sip of his water before beginning, his free hand falling to Blaine's knee and tracing random patterns onto his mustard-yellow corduroy jeans. "Well, I must admit I tried not to learn too much about you. I wanted to get to know you _myself_, not through interviews I saw on TV or read about in magazines. So really all I know is that you went to NYU for music and got signed when you were twenty, but you insisted on graduating first, which I find very commendable. You write all your own songs, and you're very friendly with your fans, and apparently everybody between the ages of ten and thirty is madly in love with you."

Blaine laughed. "Well, I wouldn't say _that_."

"It seems like it," Kurt teased. "And apart from that, all I know is that you put a lot of sweetener in your coffee and you've got the most amazing eyes and I really want to kiss you right now."

The aforementioned eyes grew wide, and then he was cupping Kurt's face and surging forwards, sealing their lips together, and it felt like Kurt's entire body was buzzing, tingling with warmth. Somehow, he ended up on his back, his arms locked tight around Blaine's tiny waist, and in that moment nothing in the world mattered except the sensation of Blaine's mouth against his own, his weight against Kurt's chest, his fingers in Kurt's hair.

"W-We- We should-" Blaine breathed shakily as he pulled away.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, stealing another kiss anyway. "Yeah, we were- talking."

"Talking's good," Blaine mumbled, blushing and looking away, abashed. Kurt sat up enough to capture his lips again. "Mmh, kissing's better."

Kurt laughed and drew back, running his thumb across Blaine's cheekbone and down his jaw, wanting to memorize his face (as if he hadn't already). "Agreed. But I feel like I should at least know your middle name before we go any further."

"Devon," Blaine provided.

Kurt chuckled again and planted another kiss to his awaiting lips. "Elizabeth."

Blaine's eyebrows knotted together. "Elizabeth?"

"It was my mother's name."

They sat up properly, this time Kurt's legs hooked over Blaine's, and they each took a calming sip of water before continuing their previous conversation. It was suddenly much harder to focus on words now that Kurt knew what Blaine's lips felt like against his own. _Soft. Warm. Perfect._

"My mom died when I was eight," Kurt began, and immediately Blaine's hands were in his, their fingers winding together; he was trying to comfort him as best he could, and Kurt squeezed back to show it was appreciated. "Car crash. I convinced my dad to let me change my middle name when I was ten."

"How did your dad take it? The loss?" Blaine asked gently. He was clearly aware of how painful it was to lose one's soulmate. Kurt's grandfather had actually passed away from the grief.

"He…It was bad, for a long while. Couldn't really do much of anything. I was terrified he was going to die too. But he got better, eventually. Said that he still had me, and that was enough to keep going." Kurt gave a small smile, eyes distant. "He's married now, to my step-mom, Carole. She's great. She lost her soulmate as well, so they both know how it feels, and they love each other, so that's all that matters."

"That's really great," Blaine said earnestly. "I'm glad he found someone. And Carole has a son? You mentioned your step-brother…"

"Oh. Yes." Kurt's expression brightened now that the upsetting topic of his mother's death was passed. "Finn Hudson. Too tall for his own good, and sort of awkward, but he has a good heart. He's come a long way."

"What do you mean?"

Kurt shrugged, but Blaine could sense his unease. "Well, I've been wearing my cuff for as long as I can remember, so nobody actually knew for a fact that the name on my wrist was a boy's, but just from the way I dressed and acted – it was easy enough to guess. And Finn…He was part of the football team, which apparently meant that he was required to be an absolute douche to me."

"What did they do?" Blaine pressed, eyebrows knotting together worriedly.

"Oh, the usual – pushed me into the lockers, dumped slushies over my head, threw spitballs at me…Every now and then they'd decide I deserved a good old-fashioned dumpster toss." Kurt sighed, rolling his shoulders a little from the phantom pained that flared over his back at the memories. "I always hated those the worst. They ruined some of my _best_ outfits…"

"Kurt, that- that's horrible!"

"I know! That Alexander McQueen suede jacket was my favorite, too."

_Of course he'd think about his clothes. _"No, I mean- What they _did_ to you." Blaine shifted still closer, looking deeply into his eyes, and Kurt could see the pain there, _his_ pain. But there was also understanding. "I- I used to sense you sometimes, you know." Kurt tilted his head, confused. "When I was in high school, sometimes I'd just randomly feel really sore, or depressed. And I remember being in art class when I was little and just suddenly bursting into tears without any reason. I was _so_ upset and I had absolutely no clue why. That must have been when your mom died…"

Kurt frowned. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"No, no, it's not- I just wish I could have been there for you," Blaine soothed, reaching up to stroke Kurt's cheek. "All this time…I just wish I could have helped in some way."

"You did," Kurt assured. He caught Blaine's hand and kissed his palm, and then his imprinted wrist. "Because whenever I felt down, I'd remember that there was this man – this mysterious 'Blaine Anderson' – waiting for me out there. Someone with _my_ name on his wrist. Even though I didn't know who you were, you- you gave me hope. You gave me courage."

Blaine gave a watery smile and leaned in for a soft, lingering kiss.

"So Finn…Is he still-?"

"Oh, god, no!" Kurt quickly assured. "No, when our parents started dating, and we actually got to know one another, he started to realize what a jerk he was being and did a total one-eighty – started sticking up for me. Made his friends stop harassing me all the time. A few of the jocks still liked to pick on me, but." He shrugged. "What can you do? There's always going to be those assholes out there that don't believe in same-sex soulmates."

Blaine shook his head. "I wish you didn't have to put up with them, though."

Kurt eyed Blaine. "So did you never…?"

"No. I- My parents had me wear the cuff out in public ever since the name showed up. Honestly, I think they were just embarrassed to have a gay son, but it was also to try and protect me. They sent me to a private school in Westerville – Dalton Academy. Nobody ever harassed me there."

"Oh my god, Dalton? I actually looked into going there!" Kurt gasped excitedly. "But I lived in Lima. It was too far away to commute to every day, and my dad couldn't afford to let me board, so I stayed at McKinley."

"McKinley as in New Directions?"

Kurt's eyes widened. "Yeah, how did you-?"

"I was in the Warblers. The Dalton show choir," Blaine chuckled. "We almost competed against you guys in my sophomore year, but then that group from Cleveland dropped out and the competitions got all switched around."

"Oh, I remember that…" Kurt sighed. "Wow. So all that time, you were only a couple hours away."

"So close, yet so far," Blaine chuckled, wrapping his arms around Kurt and pulling him against his chest, and Kurt rested his head on his shoulder, curling into him and smiling at how warm and happy and at _peace_ he felt there in Blaine's arms. He felt protected, and safe, and treasured.

He felt _loved_.

…

They ended up talking for _hours_ – about their families, about their jobs, about their friends, about anything that came to mind. Kurt found out that Blaine's older brother was none other than Cooper Anderson, a strikingly handsome actor that Kurt knew from a few commercials here and there. He was thrilled to discover that Blaine had been an avid reader of _Vogue_, even before Kurt started working there, and Blaine seemed equally enthralled when he convinced Kurt to sing a few lines of 'Blackbird.'

"I wonder what people are saying," Kurt mused. Outside, afternoon was fading into evening and they were still tangled up on the couch, unable to stop touching – brief brushes of the fingertips, shifting legs, random little kisses just because they could.

Blaine frowned. "About us? Do you think it's something bad?"

Kurt kissed him soothingly on the forehead, not drawing away until the knots between his eyebrows unknitted themselves. "I'm sure there must be at least a handful of homophobic assholes making a ruckus about it. But no- I was more just wondering when we'll get calls begging for joint interviews and whatnot. And I don't even want to think about what your fans are doing right now. They must be absolutely losing their shit."

Blaine chuckled, smoothing a hand down Kurt's thigh. "I'm sure our managers have been fielding calls all day." He sighed and added sadly, "We're not gonna get another day like this in a long time, are we…?"

"No, probably not," Kurt conceded, equally nonplussed at the thought. He wanted to stay right there, with Blaine, and forget that the rest of the world existed. "We're gonna be hounded by reporters and fans and we won't get a minute of privacy."

Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, where it fit so perfectly, like a puzzle piece. "We'll make it work," he murmured confidently.

Kurt smiled and kissed his curls. "I know."

…

Kurt's prediction was right; the second they turned their phones back on, they exploded with texts and missed call alerts. Blaine sighed in defeat, gave Kurt a final parting kiss, and showed him to the door. He'd offered to let him stay the night, and Kurt had been sorely tempted to take him up on it, but in the end he decided it would be best to go back to his own apartment and meet with Jennifer. She was probably at wits end by now.

Sure enough, when he got back, she was on his couch, hair falling loose from her ponytail and fingers flying over her iPad, her legs covered in sticky notes.

"Thank _god_ you're back," she gasped, all but leaping on him before he'd even gotten his shoes off.

"I'm sorry, Jenn," he apologized. "Have the paparazzi been all over you?"

"Like hounds!" she wailed. "We need to discuss interviews. You've been contacted by twelve magazines and newspapers, six television shows, and about two dozen online celebrity news blogs." She kicked up one of her yoga pants-clad legs for emphasis, the pink sticky notes fluttering. "I told them all I'd call them back because I didn't know how many you'd be willing to do, but I'm betting you don't want to do a lot-"

"Or any," Kurt grumbled.

She scowled at him. "Work with me, Hummel. You and Blaine are the biggest news since sliced bread. Everybody and their dog wants to talk to you."

"What's there to say?"

She rolled her eyes. "Kurt, don't you realize what position you're in right now?" When he raised an expectant eyebrow, she sighed. "You and Blaine are two of the biggest names right now. Everyone in the fashion _and_ music worlds are looking at you guys right now."

"But why?" he asked exasperatedly. "We're just soulmates! Everyone has one!"

"But not everyone has _met_ theirs yet." Her expression softened. "You can give people hope. Imagine all the young girls and boys that look up to you two, and seeing you meet your soulmate and fall in love – that's going to do a world of good for them."

Kurt heaved a great sigh and collapsed back onto the couch. "No pressure or anything."

Jennifer sank down next to him and patted his knee. "Nice move with the tweets, by the way," she added. "It staved off a lot of developing rumors."

The fashion designer rubbed his face and glanced down at the scattered hot pink notes on Jennifer's legs. "Alright." He sat up and rolled his shoulders back. "What's the game plan?"

…

_To Blaine:  
How __many interviews is Kevin making you do?_

_To Kurt:  
__Too many. :(_

_To Blaine:  
__Has Jenn already called Kevin to set up joint interviews?_

_To Kurt:  
__Yep. At least it's a chance to be together, even if it is on camera..._

_To Blaine:  
__I just want you all to myself though_

_To Kurt:  
__I couldn't agree more. 3_

_To Blaine:  
__Think you could make it over for breakfast tomorrow? I'll make banana pancakes_

_To Kurt:  
__I'll be there! :)_

…

Kurt was in the middle of a meeting with his head staff a week later when it happened.

"We need to think bigger," he was saying. "What do I keep telling you? Fashion has no gender. I don't care that this is a menswear line – we're not here to redefine gender, we're here to _eliminate_ it." He flipped to a different page of his notes and went on, "Greg, I liked your idea of reconceptualizing the-"

A sudden, crippling, overpowering wave of pain hit him, like being shot in the heart, and he gasped and doubled over. He was immobilized, his breathing short and shuddering – it felt like his ribcage was suddenly half its size, crushing, binding. He couldn't see; all he could hear was blood rushing, throbbing, and he wanted to cry out but he couldn't.

It faded just enough to let him think, and he straightened up a little, eyes wide, still gasping for breath.

"Mr. Hummel?" his first assistant asked worriedly.

He was only able to get out one word before stumbling to the glass door and wrenching it open.

"_Blaine…_"

…

**This was in 8 parts on Tumblr, but it's only going to be 4 on here. :) Just fyi.**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	3. Chapter 3

He called Blaine's cell, but he knew long before the voicemail picked up that he wouldn't answer. So he called Kevin instead, breathing hard as he raced down the stairs and out of the building onto the busy New York City sidewalk.

"Kurt?" Kevin answered. "Oh thank god, I was just about to call you-"

"What happened?" he demanded frantically. "Is he okay?"

"How did you-?" Kevin began, and then- "Oh, god, I forgot. You must have felt- Jesus. I'm so sorry! It-"

"What happened to Blaine?" Kurt practically screeched. He all but threw himself in front of a taxi to get it to stop for him, and he lunged inside before anyone decided to be fool enough to try and slip in before him. His chest still ached and his heart was racing. _Please be alright. Please, please, please. I only just found you!_

"He- He's gonna be fine," Kevin assured. "He's just, uh, he'll need a little-"

"_Kevin Mayer!_"

"He's at the hospital!" the poor manager blurted, terrified. "There was an accident during soundcheck! An amplifier fell on him! I'm sorry, it wasn't my-"

Kurt hung up on him and told the driver to get him to the hospital as quickly as possible. He spent the entire ride with his eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapped around himself, chanting in his head, _you'll be okay, you'll be okay, you'll be okay_ and praying Blaine felt it.

He texted Kevin for the room number. He ended up arriving only twenty or so minutes after they did, and Blaine was still getting an x-ray to see if his ribs or internal organs were damaged. Kurt's own chest continued to throb, like his heart was too big and his lungs weren't working properly.

"Kurt, I swear, it was a total accident," Kevin tried to soothe.

He shrugged off his hand. "I don't care. Blaine's hurt either way." _I swear to god, Blaine, you'd better be alright._

The nurses tried to offer him a seat, but when they realized he was the soulmate of the patient they left him be; they knew better than to try and get between someone and their injured partner.

After what felt like hours – but was probably only a few minutes – the doctor came to tell them that Blaine was in the room and suitable for visitors. Kurt didn't even stay to let him finish talking; he just plowed by and dashed inside.

"Blaine," he breathed.

The singer glanced over at him and offered an apologetic little smile. He was hooked up to an IV and he was shirtless, his upper chest wrapped thickly in white gauze.

"Hey," he greeted.

Kurt was by his side in a flash, sitting on the edge of the bed and grabbing his right hand, the one with his name on the wrist. Immediately, calm began to wash through him; his heart finally stopped racing and the constrictions in his chest loosened.

"Are you okay?" he demanded, reaching up to brush Blaine's curls back. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," he assured, squeezing Kurt's hand. "Really. Kevin's overreacting."

Kurt leveled him with a glare. "Don't try and play this off, Blaine Devon Anderson. I _felt_ it."

Blaine's smile disappeared. "Oh…Kurt, I'm so sorry. I wish you hadn't-"

"Don't worry about _me_," Kurt cut him off. "I wasn't the one actually hurt." He glanced down at the bandages. "What- What happened?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I was an idiot. I was helping out some of the tech guys and we were moving this big amplifier and I tripped on one of the chords and it just sort of…landed on me." He gave a tiny shrug, wincing when it pulled his bandages taught.

Kurt's hand drifted over them, to the lump off to the left. "Did it…"

"It's- just a cut," Blaine tried to soothe, grabbing the hand and twining their fingers together. "The edge of the amplifier just caught me the wrong way. I'm sure it's nothing-"

"It's a fractured rib, is what it is," a voice from the doorway corrected, and Kurt gasped and whipped around. The elderly man in a white coat entered the room with a clipboard and x-ray results. He eyed Kurt and their entwined hands. "Good afternoon. I'm Dr. Greyson. I'm assuming you're his soulmate?"

"Yes," they answered as one.

He nodded, and then went on. "So, Mr. Anderson. You're a lucky guy – there's no damage to your internal organs." Kurt breathed out a great sigh of relief and rested his forehead on Blaine's shoulder. "Your second left rib is fractured though, so you may find it difficult or painful to take full breaths for a while. We'll give you some painkillers, but as long as there's no complications rib fractures tend to heal themselves over time."

"How long?" Kurt asked, sitting up again.

"Four to six weeks, depending on how big the fracture is and how fast of a healer he is." He eyed Kurt and added, "Make sure he doesn't exert himself. Have him do one big breath once an hour, and lay on his left side if he can handle it, and-"

He continued to give Kurt instructions on how best to take care of him, and then gave Blaine permission to leave, warning him to come back if something happened or if he needed stronger medication. Kevin came in – he'd been in the hallway and had overheard the diagnosis – and timidly mentioned Blaine's gig that evening.

"You have _got_ to be shitting me." Kurt glowered darkly at him, and even though Kevin was probably twice his age, he still shrank back, looking properly cowed. Turning back to Blaine, the designer gently asked, "Sweetie, does it hurt to breathe at all?"

"Yeah, a little," he confessed, glancing apologetically at his manager. "I just- I don't think it's really worth the risk, Kev-"

"No, it's not," Kurt agreed. "Come on. I'm going to take you home, and you're going to lie down and not move an inch until you're better."

Blaine chuckled as Kurt helped him into his shirt. "Babe, you don't have to do all this. I'm not _dying_."

Kurt flinched, and the shorter man paused, his expression turning serious.

"Oh my god," he whispered, "did you think…?"

"I was _scared_," Kurt defended, a little choked up. "All I knew was that I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe and you were hurt and I didn't know where you were or what had happened and-"

"Oh, no, baby, ssh." Blaine cupped Kurt's cheek and drew him in for a searing kiss. Kurt wrapped his arms around his neck and tried best to hold back his tears, drawing comfort and reassurance from Blaine, holding him as close as he dared. "I'm fine. See? I'm fine…"

Kurt sniffed and nodded, laughing a little at himself for getting so emotional.

Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'll- Blaine, I'll reschedule your events. Just focus on getting better, okay?"

"Aye aye, captain," Blaine chuckled, mock-saluting with his good hand.

Kurt rolled his eyes affectionately and shepherded him off to go find the doctor and get him signed out.

…

When the stepped outside, there were cameras everywhere; apparently they'd been tipped off that Blaine had been rushed to the hospital. Kurt shielded them as best he could until they got to the hired car, letting Blaine slide in first and slamming the door shut behind him.

"You alright?" he checked.

"Spiffy," Blaine smiled, but it looked a little forced; his eyes were droopy and his left arm was curled into his chest.

He gave directions to the driver and then sat back and let Blaine use him as a pillow, his head resting on his lap as Kurt carded his fingers through his hair. By the time they'd reached Kurt's apartment complex, Blaine was almost asleep, and it took a bit of gentle prodding to get him out of the car. There were a few reporters here too, but Kurt shooed them off with a rather curt 'he doesn't need this right now' and helped him inside, arm wrapped tight around his waist.

"This is _your_ place," Blaine mumbled, adorably confused as he glanced around Kurt's spacious, brightly-lit twenty-sixth-floor flat.

Kurt led him to the couch with the best view and carefully lowered him down. "Yes, it is. It'll be much easier to take care of you if you're close. If you need anything from your apartment, I can go get it for you."

Blaine smiled up at him, eyes shining big like a lovesick puppy. "You're too good for me, you know that?"

Kurt bent down and pressed their lips together in a warm, sweet kiss. "Nonsense. Now lie back and let me take a look at that cut. Dr. Greyson said we needed to unwrap these bindings so that you can breathe a bit better."

Blaine grabbed his hand as he stood to go get his first-aid kit and refused to let go until he got another kiss, which Kurt gave with feigned reluctance.

Kurt gingerly redressed Blaine's cut, which ran horizontally between two ribs and was long but thankfully not too deep, although there was already some dark bruising surrounding it. Kurt gave him a dose of painkillers before deciding that he should eat something and heading into the kitchen to whip him up some soup and a sandwich, despite his protests.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Blaine called weakly.

Kurt bit his lip, and then pulled out his phone and began typing out a few emails and texts. "Nothing I can't move around," he said – he hoped – before returning to the soup on the stove. He'd ran out halfway through a meeting, after all; next time he went into work there'd have to be a lot of catching-up to do. But Blaine was far more important right now.

When he came back into the living room with the tray, he found Blaine on his phone.

"Texting Kevin?" he guessed, setting down the snack on the coffee table and fluffing one of Blaine's pillows for him. Blaine chuckled and let him dote.

"No, I'm on Twitter. A lot of people are sending me well-wishes. It's very sweet," he smiled. "News sure does spread fast…"

Kurt stood and stepped back, holding up his phone on camera mode. Blaine gave him an exaggerated pout, pulling the afghan higher up his hips at the last second; he had pants on, but his chest was bare apart from the gauze taped loosely over his left ribs. "Kuuurt, I look gross!" he whined.

"You do _not._" Kurt laughed at the mere thought, quickly typing out the tweet and posting it before returning his phone to his pocket and spooning some soup into Blaine's willing mouth.

_** BlaineAnderson**__ don't you dare scare me like that again!_

Blaine reached up and drew Kurt down for a firm kiss when he read it. "I'm sorry," he said for the umpteenth time. "I'm _so_ sorry."

Kurt shook his head and fed him some more soup; he knew Blaine was completely capable of feeding himself, but he was letting Kurt pamper him anyway, for which he was extremely grateful. "No more apologies. Let's just focus on getting you better."

Blaine then held up his phone and snapped a shot of the bowl of soup in Kurt's lap and the sandwich on the plate. Kurt huffed out a laugh and set the soup aside for a moment to check his Twitter feed.

_Nobody knows how to make a guy feel better more than __** KurtHummel**__ 3 I'll be on my feet in no time_

Kurt snorted and 'favorited' it before setting his phone aside yet again and handing Blaine half of the turkey sandwich, his favorite.

…

"Kurt, for the last time, I don't mind the couch!" Blaine said for the dozenth time.

Kurt wasn't having any of it, though. "Honey, you're _hurt_. You need to sleep in a proper bed, and I want you close by in case something happens and you need to go back to the hospital. I don't mind the couch, _really_. I bought it in the first place because it was so comfortable."

Blaine glowered. "I am _not_ letting you sleep on the couch in your own apartment."

They stared at one another, neither backing down, until suddenly Blaine's face lit up. "Hey…Why don't we just share the bed?"

Kurt's eyes widened. "Oh. Why didn't I think of that? Yeah, that'd be- Yeah. Okay."

They got ready for bed – Kurt had gone over to Blaine's apartment after dinner and picked up the things he'd requested – with an air of impatience. They'd spent as much time as possible with each other in the past week, but they'd never spent the night together. Blaine had insisted that just because they were soulmates didn't mean he didn't want to go about this properly. Take it slow, get to know each other. Kurt couldn't agree more.

Blaine was in bed first, choosing the right side without any consultation, and Kurt couldn't help but smile to himself as he settled down in front of his vanity and quickly began his nightly skin regimen; he'd always slept on the left side, but there was no way Blaine had known that. _We're made for each other_, he reminded himself delightedly. _Of course we match._

"Do you need any more Ibuprofen before you go to sleep?" the designer asked as soon as he'd finished.

Blaine shook his head, eyes drooping. "'M fine." He smiled shyly and reached out a hand. "Come join me."

Kurt went without hesitation, taking his hand and slipping under the covers. He flipped the lamp off, leaving them with only the moonlight from the window to see. Kurt snuggled closer and rested a hand lightly over Blaine's heart, careful to avoid the cut.

"How's your breathing?" he whispered.

"Doesn't hurt as long as I don't take a really big breath," Blaine grinned.

"You're supposed to take a big breath every now and then, though," Kurt reminded seriously.

Blaine chuckled and kissed his temple. "I know, I know. Relax. I'm going to be _fine_."

Kurt hummed and rested his head on Blaine's shoulder, eyes falling shut. Blaine was solid and warm and his presence was already lulling Kurt to sleep. "Good."

"But you know, I've heard that kisses make everything feel better…"

The taller man chortled and peeked open one eye. "Oh, is that so?" he teased, tilted his head up to press his lips to the underside of Blaine's jaw, which was course with the hint of stubble. "Well, I want nothing more than to make you feel better, my love." He kissed up Blaine's jaw to his ear and then bit lightly on the lobe, making Blaine giggle and squirm. "Go to sleep, sweetheart," Kurt whispered.

Blaine buried his face into Kurt's hair and obeyed.

…

The following couple of weeks were more stressful for Kurt than he'd ever admit. (Not to Blaine, anyway.) He still had a business to run – a business in a very competitive, cut-throat industry, he might add. He still had galas to attend and designs to complete and projects to overlook, and Blaine was absolutely insistent that he not miss out on any of it on his account.

"_I_ can't work, but that doesn't mean _you_ shouldn't," he'd reasoned patiently over a breakfast of blueberry muffins and cereal.

So Kurt forced himself to leave Blaine behind on the couch each morning – after making sure he was comfortable and needed for not – and go into the office, where it was a constant rush of 'Mr. Hummel can you look over these files?' and 'Mr. Hummel there's a Miss So-n-So on line 4' and 'Mr. Hummel what do you think of these new design sketches for the winter line?'

Kevin and Jennifer came over more often than perhaps Kurt would have liked, but he was glad there was someone there to keep Blaine company, make sure he wasn't going stir-crazy. Blaine was already feeling better after the first week of rest, and he and Kevin agreed that he could start performing again soon, despite Kurt's fears.

Blaine, with so much more free time on his hands, took to being online quite a lot, something that his fans – and even some of Kurt's – were extremely thrilled about. In the evenings, when the two of them were settling down for a late dinner, he'd tell Kurt about all the interesting tweets and blog posts he'd gotten.

"There was this really sweet one from a girl in Wisconsin," he informed him one night over a meal of Chinese take-out (Kurt had been too exhausted to cook, and he refused to let Blaine do anything at all). "I think her name was Rose or something. Anyway, she wrote this really touching post about how she's being bullied a lot in school because she has a girl's name on her wrist, but watching us find each other gave her a lot of strength. A lot of them are like that – _thanking_ us, like we did something really big and important. I almost feel guilty."

Kurt shrugged and swallowed his mouthful of spicy chicken. "Jenn told me they'd react like that. I don't understand it either. People meet their soulmates every day. We just happen to both be in the public eye a lot, I guess."

"We never did do very many interviews," Blaine mused, his chopsticks swirling around his chow mein noodles. "I had my- my accident before we could get to a lot of them."

Kurt paused. "Are you- What are you trying to say?"

Blaine sighed and shook his head. "Nothing. I think I'm just a little impatient to get back out there. I haven't sung in _weeks_, babe! I'm going through performing withdrawals or something…"

The designer chuckled and set down his chopsticks. "What's stopping you?"

Blaine frowned. "My rib-"

"No, I mean- You can still _sing_. You're breathing has gotten a lot better this past month, and Kevin's moved your concert to next Monday, right? You're in the home-stretch now. I'm sure it can't hurt to keep your vocal chords in practice…"

Blaine's face split into a wide grin when he realized what Kurt was hinting at, and that was all Kurt could ask for; he knew he was restricting Blaine a lot during his healing period, and all he wanted was to make him smile again. "Right now? Seriously?"

"Why not?"

"Okay, but you have to sing with me."

"What?" Kurt laughed, waving off the suggestion. "No way. I gave up that dream a _long_ time ago. No, you sing. One of your old songs, maybe?"

Blaine stood up and grabbed his hands, though, not taking no for an answer. "Come _on_. Pretty please? With sugar on top?" he wheedled, and he just looked too adorable to turn down, so Kurt consented with a great theatrical sigh.

Kurt knew all of Blaine's songs by heart, so when Blaine started singing, he instantly recognized it – "Courage," his personal favorite, a song about faith in the future and the strength to face your fears. Blaine started to dance around the apartment, and Kurt joined in. They laughed and twirled and made silly faces at one another from over the back of the couch, stealing small kisses between each line. Kurt couldn't remember the last time he felt this light-hearted and _happy_.

Then, when they got to the final chorus, Blaine suddenly gasped and cut off, face screwing up in pain as he clutched at his chest, knees buckling. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

At the same time, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through Kurt's own chest, and he lunged forward to catch his soulmate just before he hit the floor.

…

**I'm a horrible person. I am so sorry!**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


	4. Chapter 4

**Final part! More of an epilogue than anything. Enjoy!**

…

Kurt got Blaine to the hospital in record time, ignoring the searing pain in his own chest because he knew it wasn't actually real; Blaine's was, though. Blaine, who had been dancing around the apartment without a care in the world not twenty minutes ago, was now hunched over, wheezing, fingers clutched in the fabric of Kurt's sweater, unable to speak.

It was a blur for Kurt – a terrifying, heart-stopping blur. He quickly explained what had happened and they got Blaine admitted and then carted him off to a restricted part of the hospital where Kurt couldn't follow. A couple nurses tried to calm him down.

"Calm down?" he practically shrieked. "Did you not _see_ him?"

"Sir, we get it – your soulmate is in pain and you feel it," one of them – the younger one – said, frustratingly unfazed. "But that means _he_ can feel _you_ as well. It's a two-way street. If you want to help him, try to be as calm as possible. He doesn't need your stress on top of his own."

Kurt immediately stopped fighting them. He collapsed into one of those horridly uncomfortable plastic chairs and closed his eyes, focusing all his energy on peaceful, reassuring thoughts. _You'll get through this. You'll be okay. You'll stay with me. Stay with me, Blaine! You can't leave me now. We've only just found each other. There's so much we still have to do. I can't lose you. Please. You've got to make it through. _He massaged his own chest, hoping that easing away his own pain would help Blaine's, even just a little bit.

After a while, he thought to call Kevin and Jennifer, tell them what had happened. They both promised to get there as soon as possible, but it was late and he knew they were both at home with their own soulmates; he told them to stay. He'd call when there was news.

Eventually, a nurse came by and gave him the low-down. Apparently, Blaine had stressed the fractured rib and a piece of bone had caught his left lung, causing a pneumothorax. They'd suctioned out the excess air, though, and thankfully it looked like he'd make a full recovery.

The relief was so great Kurt had to sit down again and just _breathe_.

Blaine was unconscious when Kurt was let in to see him, but he didn't care; he sat down by his bed and grabbed his right hand between his own, tracing his name and memorizing the web of veins.

"You need to stop scaring me like this," he murmured.

Blaine's eyes moved behind his eyelids, and his head tilted almost imperceptibly towards him, as if listening to the sound of his voice.

"I'm so sorry," Kurt whispered, voice cracking as he squeezed Blaine's hand. "I'm so, _so_ sorry, baby. I shouldn't have let you sing. I should have known you needed to rest. I promised to take care of you. What kind of soulmate am I? God, I can't even- You deserve so much better than me, Blaine. Someone who can take care of you properly."

"Ssh, don't cry."

Kurt jumped and looked up. Blaine had awoken, eyes half-lidded but focused on the tearful designer with surprising intensity. He squeezed his hand. "Don't ever say that," he muttered. "I don't want anyone but you."

Kurt sniffed and brought his hand up to kiss his knuckles, a silent thank you.

"I love you," Blaine said clearly.

And Kurt could _feel_ it – felt it coursing through him, filling him up. He leaned down and captured Blaine's chapped lips in a deep, passionate kiss that conveyed more than he could ever put into words.

"I love you too, B," he said, choked up and grinning like a fool.

Blaine's face lit up. They were quiet for a beat, and then he said, "Thank you, by the way."

Kurt frowned. "For what?" _All I've done is made it worse._

"I could- I could sense you. You made me feel less scared. You made me feel better even though you weren't in there with me." He smiled. "I guess that's the benefit of having such an incredible soulmate…I'm _so_ lucky to have you."

Kurt beamed and couldn't help but steal another kiss. Blaine always knew _exactly_ what to say. "I'm just glad you're alright."

"I'll never say goodbye to you," Blaine swore. "Never."

And there wasn't a single shred of doubt in Kurt's mind.

…

Blaine's first concert after his unplanned hiatus was a sold-out show, with fans from all over coming to see his long-awaited return. He'd been anxious to get back on stage for what felt like _ages_, and it was a rush to finally take up the mic again.

"It's good to see you guys again," he greeted to the sea of upturned faces, and there was a roar of approval. "I'm sure most of you know why I was away for so long." There was another wave of noise in response. He began to strum the opening notes to 'Courage.' "Now, while I was recovering, my boyfriend Kurt Hummel-" there was a louder cheer, the loudest yet, and Blaine winked down at the handsome young man in the front row, who grinned back up at him. "Yes, I feel the same. Anyway, Kurt took care of me, even though he had a full plate of his own work to deal with. The outfit I'm wearing right now is one of his originals, actually! What do you think?"

The roof practically rattled from the deafening screams.

He laughed. "I like it too, yeah. So this song goes to him. He works so hard and takes such good care of me, and I honestly couldn't ask for a better soulmate." He glanced down at Kurt. "I love you, baby."

And then he began to sing, and the concert hall rang with thousands of approving voices.

…

**If you want more, you can go to my Tumblr (rippleklainebagels). I'll be posting drabbles in this 'verse. :)**

**Kisses,**

**~Ripple**


End file.
